


Hand Me Downs

by disaster_gay_cos



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Brief background Eret, DreamSMP - Freeform, Everyone Needs A Hug, Familial Love, Floris | Fundy Needs A Hug, Ghostbur, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I know it's sad but it's also pretty short and it ends well, I'm Sorry, The only reason it's tagged MCD is because Wilbur is already dead, They/Them Pronouns for Eret (Video Blogging RPF), This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, no beta we die like wilbur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:47:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29155284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disaster_gay_cos/pseuds/disaster_gay_cos
Summary: ---"Of course, Ghostbur knew he hadn't been a great father. Not even a good one. He had died, after all. Left Fundy an orphan. Left him alone.But there was always a chance to turn things around! To make an effort to bond with him. Just... spending some time with his son!He didn't have to make a huge thing out of this— Fundy wouldn't appreciate that, he thought. Just a small gift. A gesture of kindness, of familial love, towards a son he barely recognized anymore."---It's Fundy's birthday, and Ghostbur has some gifts for him— an old hat, and a sweater. They're not much, but they mean the world to him. Ghostbur just hopes that Fundy can forgive him for leaving him, at least long enough to accept this birthday present.
Relationships: Floris | Fundy & Wilbur Soot
Comments: 7
Kudos: 58





	Hand Me Downs

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this because of a prompt on Eret's discord server between me and an artist! They're drawing their interpretation of it, and I wrote this for it. :3 (This is my first time posting a fanfiction on Ao3, be nice please! I have written before, a lot, but never really posted it other than on Wattpad. All the sins of humans can be found on Wattpad.com, so please just ignore that part.)

Ghostbur sighed, translucent hands running over the top of the wooden chest. He hadn't opened it in a while— not since before he had died. Before L'Manberg had been destroyed.

He already knew the contents, even before he lifted the lid. A faint scent of cedar surrounded him as it opened with a creak. It smelled familiar, but he couldn't quite place it.  
That frustrated him. He didn't know why it upset him so much that he couldn't remember.

He was getting better at recalling things, lately. But some things still escaped him. Small details, fragments of memory. Leaving little blank spaces where there should be knowledge.

He slowly removed the items nestled inside— a tattered flag, covered in scorch marks. A few crumpled up pieces of paper, full of hastily scribbled notes. A beaten-up felt hat, the patches on it almost completely worn off.

Right at the bottom, where he knew it'd be (or hoped it would be. It could have been lost in the fire, of course. He was glad that it wasn't), was the sweater. It didn't seem like much— a soft brown color— a little wrinkled, but still cozy. Some holes in it, probably from moths (or embers from the explosion. It could be either).

He carefully pulled it out of the chest, wincing as one of the threads got caught on a loose nail. Folding it gently, he tucked it under one of his arms. After thinking for a second more, he placed the other objects back in the chest (besides the hat, which he decided to bring along as well).

He gently closed the lid, taking a minute longer to look at it, before exiting the house. He hadn't been in that house in a while. But this was important!

You see, it was Fundy's birthday.

Fundy.

His _son._

Of course, Ghostbur knew he hadn't been a great father. Not even a good one. He had died, after all. Left Fundy an orphan. Left him alone.

But there was always a chance to turn things around! To make an effort to bond with him. Just... spending some time with his son!

He didn't have to make a huge thing out of this— Fundy wouldn't appreciate that, he thought. Just a small gift. A gesture of kindness, of familial love, towards a son he barely recognized anymore.

He closed the door, flinching at the sound of rain pattering outside. (He decided to hide the sweater under his current jumper— he didn't want to rain to get to it).  
He would have to be quick, and find shelter soon. He didn't know exactly where Fundy was, but it wouldn't take too long to find him. Probably.

This was going to be fine! This was going to go well. He had his blue, so he wouldn't be sad, no matter how many not-so-cheerful reminders he got. And if Fundy got sad, he could always lend him some!

He couldn't think of a reason why Fundy would get sad. He didn't want to think about that.

And, pushing those thoughts out of his head, he was ready to go! He thought he was. He _hoped_ he was.

Ghostbur wished he were closer with him. He'd love to have been a father who was around for Fundy. But while he was growing up, everything was constantly changing, and he had no time to spare. Not even for his son. And that was precisely what made him such a horrible dad.

But he didn't want to think about that. He made it his goal to not be sad on this day! He didn't want to ruin the mood.

How old was Fundy turning again? Fifteen? Or was it sixteen?

Perhaps his memory wasn't as good as he hoped it was.

He'd just have to ask Fundy, once he found him. He knew the SMP like the back of his hand— he had been there since near the beginning, and that was one of the things he hadn't (and most likely wouldn't) forget.

An hour later, Ghostbur was no closer to finding Fundy. He had been drifting around, aimlessly searching for, (and asking a few other residents of the SMP who he happened to bump into about) if they had seen his son. Most gave him a vague shrug, or ignored him completely— a little out of character for them, which left Ghostbur feeling lost and confused.  
What had he done to register such a reaction, even from some of the more friendly members?

Finally, Eret pointed him the right way— they mentioned seeing Fundy a little while ago, pacing the Prime Path.

Ghostbur thanked them profusely, glad to finally have a clear answer. Giving a quick salute, he glided in the direction he had been given by the King of the SMP.

And he saw him. Sitting on the edge of the path, legs dangling off carelessly. Fundy, his son. _His son._

"Hello there!" He tried, his voice a little shakier than he intended. Ghosts weren't supposed to get nervous. But he just couldn't help it. This was a very important event in his son's life.

No response, except a small twitch of his right ear. Maybe he hadn't heard him?

"Hello, Fundy! How are you doing?"

Again, no response except a twitch of his ear. Ghostbur floated closer, sitting (well, hovering) next to his son.

"What do you want, Ghostbur?" Fundy said, finally, head still turned away from his father.

"Oh! Well— um— if I remember correctly, I— well, it's your birthday, is it not?" He really hoped he wasn't wrong. He hadn't even considered that, but it seemed like a possibility now.

"Yeah, it is." His tone was forced, almost a bark.

Why was he so angry? Had Ghostbur done something wrong? If he had, he certainly couldn't remember. Or he didn't want to.

He cleared his throat, adjusting the gifts he was holding. "Well, I have a birthday present for you! If that's okay."

He thought he saw Fundy's tail wag a bit, but he quickly brushed it off as his imagination, because his tone was as frosty as ever when he spoke.

"Why would I want a birthday present from you?"

Ghostbur stammered, hugging the sweater and hat closer to his chest.

"I— well— I'm your dad, and I thought that maybe—"

"You're not my dad. A dad is _there_ for his kids. You may be my biological father, but you're definitely not my dad. You should have been my dad since the beginning. You're fifteen years too late."

The sudden outburst of anger shocked him, and it seemed to have a toll on Fundy as well, who curled inwards slightly, and turned his back towards the ghostly man.

Ghostbur hung his head, and sighed. He should have known this would happen. Fundy had every right to be angry at him.

"Alright. Happy birthday, Fundy." He said, starting to drift away, back towards where he usually lived.

He had only gotten up a few seconds ago, but he felt a hand try and grab his shoulder (it didn't quite catch— like water through a sieve).

"Wait..." Fundy muttered, fiddling with the side of his jacket. "If you... if you really have a birthday present for me..." He looked away, breaking the eye contact and crinkling his nose slightly.

"Of course!" Ghostbur said, understanding what he was trying to say. He may have gone through so much, but he was still a kid.

Hesitantly, Fundy sat down in the middle of the prime path, crossing his legs and tugging on his jacket awkwardly.

Ghostbur sat down across from him, a few feet away. He wanted to sit closer, but he was sure that Fundy didn't.

Carefully, he took out the (slightly crumpled) felt hat and messed with it a bit (smoothing out the wrinkles, making sure the patches were still attached), before handing it to Fundy for him to inspect.

"That was your mother's hat— I wore it during most of the revolution, to remember her."

Sally, his wife. The shapeshifter of the SMP, who usually took the form of a salmon. Her story was a complicated one, and one he wasn't sure that he was ready (or able) to tell Fundy yet.

Fundy held the hat reverently, like he wasn't quite sure if it would bite him.

"Go on, put it on." Ghostbur guided, tipping his head a little to the side.

Fundy cautiously took off his normal cap, and put the other one in its place. Adjusting it a little bit so that it'd fit between his ears, and settling it with a small smile.

_A smile._

Ghostbur hadn't seen his son smile in a long time. That wasn't good, but he wasn't going to worry about that right now, not when he could be here, in the moment, witnessing his son's happiness.

"Thank—"

"Wait!" Ghostbur cut him off, pulling the sweater out from where he had been holding it, brushing it off and shaking it out a bit.

"Is that..." Fundy trailed off, but Ghostbur knew what he was trying to say.

"Yes." He answered, waiting for some sort of response. But the only reaction Fundy gave was his eyes widening slightly.

"Oh." A pause, and then; "why aren't there bloodstains on it? Phil mur—stabbed you."

Ghostbur thought for a second— he actually didn't know. Maybe Phil or someone else had washed it out after he died? He relayed his thoughts to Fundy, who nodded understandingly.

"May I...?" Fundy began.

Ghostbur handed it to him, glad that Fundy didn't wince when he accidentally brushed against his ectoplasmic hand.

Fundy took off his jacket, folding it carefully, before shrugging on the sweater as well. When he looked up again, dressed in his mother's hat and his father's jumper, all Ghostbur could see was his little boy. His son.  
Red hair (well, fur) and short like his mother, but with the hazel-gold eyes and cautious expression of his father.  
He was perfect. And Ghostbur was so, so proud of him. Maybe he should tell him that.

And so he did, looking away as to not make Fundy uncomfortable.

Fundy started to sniffle, and he rubbed furiously at his eyes for a few seconds, before launching himself into his dad's arms, ignoring the cold (and slightly unnerving) sensation that was touching a ghost.

They sat like that for who knows how long, just hugging each other, putting all of the years of pain and loneliness into that single embrace.

Ghostbur had missed this. Had missed his _son._

Maybe there was still a chance to make amends. It'd probably take a lot of time (and possibly therapy), but they could fix this.

Ghostbur didn't want to lose his son again, physically or emotionally. And Fundy needed a dad.

Was he ready to be a father again? Probably not. Was he going to try?

_Of course._

**Author's Note:**

> Uh,,,, yeah! Might write another oneshot soon (probably unrelated to this one), but my motivation comes back once in a blue moon, so don't get your hopes up.


End file.
